That Feels Good

So, I did what I said I was going to do and went to an allergist last Friday. I have to say, it was one of the most pleasant doctor visit experiences I've ever had.

Luckily, I was able to find someone who takes our insurance and has an office that's about five minutes away from our house. She was just really nice and patient. She listened to everything I had to say, and even wrote down every instance of getting outrageously sick that I told her about from this year so far (and that is no small number, people).

She did a basic skin allergy test, which wasn't any where near as bad as I'd thought it was going to be. In case you didn't know: there's no needles involved. They use these blunt-tipped plastic things that have the oils of different possible allergens (gluten, eggs, diary, peanut...) on the ends. They stick them on your skin and let the oils sit for 15 minutes.

While I was waiting I noticed a little bit of itching in one spot and thought for sure it would be gluten. But it wasn't. It was peanut. Now, I know you've never seen me eat, but trust me when I say that if I were allergic to peanuts I'd be dead a million times over with all the peanut butter/handfuls of peanuts/bunches of other things that are made in facilities where peanuts are present which I eat on a daily basis.

My doc said it's possible to get false positives, so she sent me for a blood test (three vials they needed) and is having me do something I have not been able to get the nerve up for yet: a 24 hour urine test. This means that after I had my blood taken at the lab, they handed be a giant orange bucket with a lid and a plastic urine catcher. Once I start I will have to collect my pee pee in the urine catcher and funnel it into the bucket and...AND PUT THE PEE BUCKET IN MY REFRIGERATOR AFTER EACH COLLECTION.

Yeah. It's 'bout to get real weird up in here.

I meant to start Monday, but didn't. I meant to start yesterday; I even cleared a wide berth in the fridge for the bucket and laid a towel down in that spot just in case. I totally did not start. I'm going to get it done and back to the lab before the week's out. This is almost as bad as when I went to the gastroenterologist and had to collect like 5 different stool samples for him to test. You guys? That was completely unpleasant. Except for the fact that I didn't have to refrigerate the samples. I guess poo stay fresh longer?

Honestly? Having blood drawn was easier!

What kind of strange medical tests have you had to endure?

Totally Uncalled For

Remember that garden I planted a couple of weeks ago? Well, nothing's grown yet. I know it hasn't been that long, but I'm worried that our recent cold snap has screwed up the garden's potential.

I'd really hate for this first garden outing to be a bust. Especially since I was getting used to doing things outside in the yard. Yes, that sounds odd. But when you despise hot weather, insects and reptiles it's not difficult to be afraid of a snake and wolf spider infested yard (Why did I have to look that up? Now I'm all creeped out and itchy). It took about a year for me to realize that wandering through our yard could bring some rather unexpected results.

Also? It would be awesome if the garden could produce veggies because Mother Nature has decided to be a complete bitch. On Saturday? I found a tick dug deep into my left side.

I know! When I first saw it that morning I thought it was a skin tag. It was basically the color of my skin, and who among us has not discovered a scar/mole/pimple/stretch mark that wasn't there the day before? Later I was looking at it and kind of flicking it around when I noticed...the legs. Sweet Lord Almighty!

The resulting hour was filled with me asking HUBS to confirm the tickness, having him pull it out with tweezers, watching him set it on fire and then me taking a shower and washing all the clothes I'd worn that week while crying and trying not to have a full blown panic attack as I contemplated Lyme disease. Does that sound extreme? Sorry, I didn't grow up in a Yellowstone National Forest. I'm a city girl who has never been feasted on by a tick and never thought such a country-life type of thing would happen to me. I was in shock, OK?

So, really, garden. I'm going through a lot for you, including being turned into food. You'd better damn well grow and grow good. Hear me?

A Nice Thought

Indeed...

Marriage Is A Lovely Thing

In the WalMart checkout line this morning...

citygirl: Man, I'm really gassy today and I don't know why.

HUBS: Oh, I'm sorry to hear that, sweetles.

citygirl (with concern): It's bad, too.

HUBS (bugging eyes with his head down): It's baaad, too. Oh, boy! (dissolving into hysterics and hugging his citygirl)

Honestly, is there anything better than this type of freedom? I think not.

So, Citygirl, How's Work Going?

Well, it's going just fine, internet. Thanks for asking. Aside from the heat and lack of air circulation in the office, things are mostly alright. The people are nice and so far I've made $294.

Monday was interesting. I kept getting random, shooting pains in my right boob and had to keep grabbing and massaging it. Inappropriate at the office? Sure. Do I care? Only for an additional two bucks and hour, so...no.

On Tuesday I tried to look real nice (we can basically wear whatever we want), so I put on my green sateen walking shorts that I bought at Walmart a couple of years ago. Well, it's butt-fucking hot outside and I have no air conditioning in my car and, as I said, it's kinda hot and stuffy in the office as well. About an hour into fanning my way through the work day I adjusted my pants and noticed two huge panty line shaped sweat spots on the front of my pants. Awesome. Not at all embarrassing. I swear. Thank God I was able to fan them dry before I needed to get up from my desk.

The only bad thing about the job (aside from the boredom) is getting off work at 9:30pm. It's screwing with my eating. I have dinner at work, but as soon as I get home and see HUBS all I want to do is sit down and have a meal with him. I had just been eating a piece of cake after work (bad enough), but last night I gave in to full-on fast-food-o-rama. He had just gotten home and wanted a shake from Steak-n-Shake and Burger King, so, naturally, I joined him. One mocha shake, Whopper Jr, and a shared order of medium fries and onion rings later I felt sorta disgusted with myself and way too full.

Though, I must say, the food was so, so, gooood.

For Women Who Have Considered Rogaine When Vitamins Are Not Enuff

We know I wouldn't look this good without hair, right?

At least I was considering it, until I read the website and saw it only works for hereditary female baldness. Dammit stress related hair loss!

Vacationary

Straight up, straight down.

I know. I've been gone for a while. Well, I was recovering from our three day road trip to Eureka Springs, Arkansas. I picked this spot on a lark since neither HUBS nor myself had ever been there. And, I can honestly say that I wouldn't have picked it had I known that the whole cute little town was exclusively UP HILL.

We arrived on Tuesday two weeks ago after about a six hour drive. We headed into their historic downtown, which was blissfully empty due to the semi-late hour. We walked and took pictures a bit. It was kinda hilly, but not horrible. I was hot but since the sun was going down the heat wasn't that bad.

But then there was Wednesday. We got out right at the peak of the day, noon, when the sun is high in the sky and the universe is trying to kill me. First, let me say that this is NOT a town to drive in. They have a trolley that'll take you from most of the major hotels around the sites downtown; use it people! We didn't and paid for it by getting lost on their winding, hilly, embarrassingly narrow, not-laid-out-in-a-grid-at-all-albeit-pretty streets.


Most streets are 1/3 of this size. I'm not even playing.

Also? We went during the middle of the week thinking it wouldn't be that crowded. Um, it was like freakin' 4th of July down there. There were that many people. Hence our trouble parking and finally having to settle on a paid lot ($5 for 3 hours). Hi, Arkansas, I know you don't know us, but we don't have much money and HATE paying just to leave our car somewhere. Dammit, Arkansas!

So the first thing we did was go to this pizza place I'd researched. It was really hard to find, we were both hungry and since HUBS was driving this means he got really frustrated while I remained fairly calm. All the parking spots on the street were either taken or marked NO PARKING. (That's right, obvious parking spots in parking lots were actually labelled NO. PARKING. Fuck you Arkansas.) So, we headed for the paid lots we saw the day before.

Here's where things got hairy for me. In case you don't already know, I'm not in very good shape, I sweat a lot, I dislike heights, I abhor being hot and/or sweaty and I do not like to climb. In order to get back to the pizza place I had to: get hot, sweaty and climb heights. This lead to a copious amount of cursing on my part while HUBS remained fairly calm. There are several sets of stairs you can take from the parking to the higher streets where the pizza place was located. The one we took had (I counted) 89 steps. Jesus. Then we got inside the place, which had a bar and a restaurant, and guess what? Yes! The restaurant was up another 25 steps. I yelled out something like "Jesus' Ass!!" and soon realized that the people sitting in the restaurant heard me pretty clearly. Oh, well. Sorry, Arkansas.


Stairs like this were literally all over the place. Clearly the town was carved out of a mountain...and not very well.

Pizza=Awesome. Really some of the best we've ever had. Homemade herbed crust, huge slices, cheesy, and a good Parmesan spill courtesy of HUBS. We ate, cooled down, had two huge sodas, asked our helpful server dude for directions to our next site seeing adventure and took off.


HUBS dressing up our pizza.

We hit more steps (up, of course), walked up hill a bit and then things leveled off. I was grateful and could relax enough to take pictures as we walked. Then, we hit this:



I don't know if you can really grasp the height and scariness from the Polaroid, but that little wooden path on the right was about 2 feet wide, it went almost straight up (so much so that you had to lean forward when walking so as not to fall backwards), and to the right of the path was a straight drop onto the roofs of several houses (maybe 30 or 40 feet, definitely a kill-worthy fall). By the time we reached the top I was dripping with sweat and my t-shirt was actually soaked through. Yay! Wet t-shirt contest! You're welcome, Arkansas!

Then we had another challenge, a walk through the woods. Almighty God, that state really tried my nerves. There were anonymous houses to the left of the stone path through Jasonland and scary-ass woods on the right. There were spots in there where I thought I was going to just die, people. Thank God it was at least daytime.

We went through all this to get here:



An old church where you enter through what used to be the bell tower. It was kinda pretty but not exactly worth all the trouble. After our Lord of the Rings like journey to get to the place I expected there to be free gold or something that would end the coming apocalypse there. No such luck. We really should have taken the trolley...

Then we had to make our way down. When we hit the main part of downtown again, I had walked and climbed so much that I felt weak and my legs were rubbery, like I was going to collapse. We ducked into a souvenir shop for cool air and the lady behind the counter took pity on me and my wet shirt and offered me paper towels. Finally, thank you Arkansas!


Down was scarier than up. I had to lean back to not roll face first down the hill.

Even with all the trials I have to say I had a good time. We ate good food, saw new things, I got lots of good pictures and I challenged myself without knowing I was going to.

What else happened while we were there? We went to WalMart Tuesday night and got caught in the strangest electrical storm either of us had ever seen. Ran inside the store once we realized the noise we heard was sheets of rain slowly coming toward us. Got trapped inside WalMart while the hellish rain died down. Went without reliable internet access for two days. Changed hotel rooms to get one with a fridge/microwave combo and a better toilet (the toilet was still crap). Had hotel sex. Saw a deer just hanging out at the entrance to downtown. Ate awesome BBQ, ice cream and funnel cake. Sat on our balcony and watched a woman play catch with her dog down below. Walked a scary wooden bridge over the street. Tried to get to an all-you-can-eat catfish place before they closed, but the stupid street numbers were wrong so we ended up eating leftover pizza, tacos and fries for dinner. I walked through a spider web at a restaurant, found it on my neck a few minutes later, killed it with my utensils and then pretended I found the squished spider on my napkin to the waitress so she'd get me another one. Drove a half hour out of our way (while eating funnel cake) to get to an attraction that turned out to be closed that day.


A whole shop devoted to funnel cake? Yes!

Yeah, that was pleasantly eventful. Where are you going this summer?

Dammit Summer!

I think the sun hates me right back.

Oh fuck, here we go. Yesterday when I went out to feed the cats at 9am it was already 83 degrees outside. All hot, heavy and sticky. We are now officially in summer. No more cooling down at night and then getting ridiculously hot during the day, oh no. It will now be ass-the-fuck tropical damn hot 24 hours a day and seven days a week. Joy.

My deep hatred for summer is well-documented on this blog. I literally cannot stand it. Yesterday morning's heat sent me into a deep, summer-is-here related funk. I had things to do, but couldn't. All I could think was "Jesus' ass, it's hot out there!" I took a nap three hours after waking up because of it.

Summer just takes the life out of me. I can't concentrate. I want to move even less than I normally do. The very idea of things makes me tired. Anything other than sleep is exhausting. It's a miserable way to live.

Really, can't we stagger the heat? You know, have an 85 degree day on Monday and then a 65 degree day Tuesday. Wouldn't that make more sense? I bet less people would kill and be murdered during summers if we worked it like that.

To All The Chinese Food Restaurants

Blech. Why couldn't I find a single picture of baby corn looking evil in 7 pages of google image search? It is evil, you know...

Dear Chinese Restaurant Chefs,

Listen up, people. Stop putting baby corn in all your dishes like it's a vegetable. It's not. As far as I'm concerned, it's an abomination. I know it looks like a tiny corn cob, but A) it doesn't actually taste like corn B) it's stupid and C) it makes me feel like a giant, and I don't appreciate that at all baby corn(fucker).

So, stop it already!

Sincerely Yours
citygirl

No. I...Am DONE.

What I will no longer be wearing.

Ok, people. I've had it. I will never, ever again succumb to the idea that a "body shaper" can be at all comfortable and actually keep my rolls in check.

I managed to avoid these things until I bought one last summer (at my mom's suggestion) to wear under my wedding dress. It was expensive and horrible and after having it on for roughly 2.6 seconds I ripped it off and returned it to the store.

Now, HUBS and I were in Target the other day and I found some cool Mossimo trouser-style jeans for only 20 bucks. They fit, but my thighs look a bit lumpalicious in the crotch-to-thigh area. I decided to try the Assets line of body shaper. It's by the same chick who created Spanx, but it's much cheaper.

I tried it on today, and, you know what? It's ass. Total ass. The package (and website, for that matter) promise that this shit is comfy and will hold your blubbery bullshit in. But none of that is even remotely true.

First of all, it was a bitch and a 1/2 to put on. I actually broke into a sweat pulling the thing on. When I finally got it up, it rolled down once it hit my back fat. Big no-no. Then, I looked in the mirror. And what did I see? Everything. Every roll and flab pocket was just as exposed as if I were naked. This crap held NOTHING IN.

Why did I not pay attention to the package? I appreciate that she makes a wide range of sizes but let's be honest. The only bitches I ever see on the packs of these things are skinny hoes with (maybe) a little stomach pooch or a couple of unfortunate ass ripples. This shit is simply not made for serious rolls and creator chick should just come out and say it instead of giving us hope by making big sizes.

There. Me? Utterly finished with ass-wipe "shapewear".

Because We Do Things Differently In The '09 Beeyotch!!

Dear Jesus, we just want to get out of here alive...

Holy crap, I am so proud of us! We finally, after weeks of talking and planning have done something new! This is, in great part, thanks to HUBS' sister Tiny Sarcasm, or TS for short.

See TS is an avid belly dancer and she invited me to a workshop weekend she was coming to St. Louis for. I begged off the workshop since it was about $60, but said ok to the performance last Saturday night. I did this with much trepidation, though. Tickets were a whole THIRTEEN DOLLARS each. Who did these people think they were? I felt like I should really say yes, though, because this was the second time she'd asked me to do belly stuff with her, and I said no the first time.

So, on Saturday night, HUBS and I put on cool clothes and headed out to the dance studio where the performance was held. As usual with me and new things, I was not in the mood. The only thing that kept me from drifting back into my cozy, lazy Saturday pj-wearing ways was knowing that TS was expecting us.

This was not an easy task by any means. After stopping at the atm for ticket cash, we headed to a part of town neither of us knows well. We got to the street where the studio was supposed to be and it looked totally deserted. It was filled with factories on one end and apartments on the other, nothing even remotely dance-studio-y.

We drove up and down about four times and were ready to give up when we finally noticed the bright green building waaaaaaay off the street and sandwiched between two factories. There was a parking dude who directed us to a huge, completely dark, gravel and mud lot. We parked, HUBS got out and told me to watch for the mud puddles.

citygirl: Goddammit! This is what I get for trying to up my style game by not wearing clunky tennis shoes and jeans. Look what I'm wearing!

HUBS: (seeing my tan chinos and zebra striped ballet flats) Naw! Hell, naw! I'm not gonna have you ruin your shoes! This is bullshit! Let's go!

We were actually leaving when we noticed a spot on the lit and paved lot right in front of the building. We talked to parking man and he let us take the spot. Look at us! All determined to do stuff once we leave the house!!

Then came the experience of being inside the place. Um...it was really scary. It's exactly the type of place you'd go to if you want to be killed by Jason Voorhees. And the first really creepy thing we passed on the way to get our tickets? A vendor selling fetish gear: whips, chains, restraints, ball and gag crap, lots of pleather/leather/whateverthefuckthatshitismadeof. I was trying to remain calm, and did, but inside I was all fucked up.


Witch! Wiiiiiiitch!!

We got our tickets from the nice man with all the piercings and tattoos and a shiny black pompadour and headed for the basement, where the performance was. Holy fuck shits, you guys. The stairs were unbelievable. If you showed me a picture of those stairs and told me they led straight to the 9th circle of Hell I'd be like, "Well, yeah. Obviously." Later, HUBS told me that after he saw the stairs he thought his sister had set us up to be the ritual sacrifices of a cult. And that's only a small exaggeration.

As you can probably imagine the basement was no better. The pipes in the ceiling were leaky, the floor was filthy and wet, and they hadn't bothered to put enough seating around so HUBS and I (in our nice clothes) were relegated to the floor. A major feature of the room was an old conveyor belt complete with rusty nails! Joy! Joy aplenty!!

After a few performances we spotted TS and she us. We sat in front of her full table, and I hit my head on it as I sat down. It took me FOREVER to get comfortable. I thought for sure that I'd be covered in rats and roaches as soon as I sat down. The only thing keeping them away must have been...I don't know...bigger rats?

Let me just say, the people were just as terrifying as the setting. This was no standard bellydance show. Oh no. This was a Goth Tribal Fusion Bellydance show. There were lots of scarily made up faces, dog collars and just a sea of meshy, black costumes everywhere. Also, many of the performers were scary. One chick looked like an old witch. If you told me she was born in the year 10 and survived on the tears of children I'd say, "Well, yeah. What else could keep that woman alive."

We managed to stay for the whole show. I even won a door prize of a very spiky silver bracelet made in Pakistan. I'm not sure why, but it reminds me a lot of the puzzle box from Hellraiser. I'm not convinced I'll wear it.

Afterwards, in need of nourishment and light, we had breakfast at midnight at South City Diner, which is nearby. Thank God for blueberry pancakes.

You Win Some, You Lose Some

HUBS when I'm not scaring him.

I have had a mildly interesting January 2009. After constructing my giant to do/to buy list, I've been trying really hard to step up on a lot of levels. I've made some strides, had some "events" and, as is my tendancy, completely chickened out in some areas.

Let's start with the not-so-good. I've been having periodic (about once a week) spells that HUBS calls my "tire fire". He got the term from an episode of King of the Hill where Hank is trying to explain how to deal with angry women to Bobby. Only I can honestly say, in my case, angry almost doesn't cut it. I've become enraged to the point of screaming/crying/throwing things four times this month, and the first two were over relatively small things.

First, it was the toilet. We just put on a nice new seat a couple months ago. It was so pretty and white and very sturdy. I cannot explain how deeply irrational my love for this toilet seat was, except to say that our old one never came clean anymore and was broken, so that if you moved the wrong way on the toilet you were libel to go flying off and this made it very hard to fully take care of business at times. I had already noticed that the paint on the seat was starting to come off, leaving two brown spots where the wood was showing through. You can guess what that looks like on a toilet seat, right? So, me no happy.

Then, one quiet Sunday I saw two big yellow blotches on the seat near the exposed wood. They wouldn't come off. I started to yell, and HUBS tells me he thinks he spilled bleach on the seat and that's what the yellow is. I. EX. PLOADED. So now it looks like we routinely shit and piss all over our toilet? Great, we can never have people over now! Why can't I ever have nice things anymore? Why do boys mess up everything? What the fuck is wrong with them? Does HUBS not care anything about our home at all? Is this my life now? We should just go live in the woods and shit on trees! I threw a bathroom towel into the living room and left it there. HUBS picked it up the next day, along with flowers, my favorite coffee and a snack from Quick Trip.

The second time was after our lovely HellCat Tux bit me one night. We have never been able to completely stop him from attacking us. He does it blissfully less than he used to, but the biting is still random and fierce. This time really set me off. I chased him around the house spraying him with a water bottle. Usually that's the end of it. But I guess I hadn't punished him enough, so I began to throw clothes off the drying rack in the hall at him as I sobbed uncontrollably. I finished with picking up the drying rack and throwing that at Tux too. I know, you guys. I didn't hurt him, he's a fast little bastard.

At some point late last week something made me angry while I was making a sandwich. Do you know what I did? I threw all the sandwich fixings on the floor of the kitchen and the hall, and for the third time picked nothing up. HUBS had to do it again.

All of these incidents have one thing in common: I realize I'm overreacting but cannot seem to stop myself. And, in the Tux case, the realization that I'm going too far makes me angrier and want to go even farther. So, I do.

The most recent occurance was Saturday night, and I'm sure this is what all the other enraged spells were about. HUBS and I decided to try out to be extras in a George Clooney movie that's going to be filming here, so we had spent the early evening taking pictures of each other for the casting directors. His were fabulous; he's thin, looks good in his clothes, and cute. I, looked like hell. I thought my hair was ok; it was shit. I thought I looked nice in the clothes I picked out; I was fat and lumpy in everything. And to top it off there was some blotch on my forehead that I didn't see when I looked in the mirror.

After seeing the results I was devastated. I couldn't stop thinking about how fat I am and how worthless I feel and how nothing is the way I want it to be. I cried for hours, this time without throwing anything, but massive crying nonetheless.

By 1 a.m. I was sitting up in bed (still crying) telling HUBS everything. How hard it is for me to watch him eat Taco Bell at midnight when I'm trying really hard not to eat after 10 p.m., how I don't feel anything anymore when we have sex, how hard it is to be married to someone who's never had to worry about his weight, how I hate staying at home everyday but hate the idea of going to an office, on and fucking on. I woke up with a headache and very swollen eyes, like I always do when I sleep after crying.

Today I left messages to make two appointments, one with the social worker I used to see every week, and one with a sex therapist. I really still don't know what I'm doing; with my life or work or anything else. Maybe talking will help like it did once before. But I absolutely refuse to go back on crazy pills. And that's the end of that.

Ick, Ick and More Ick

All right, this one ain't so bad.

Because of all the incidents lately with spiders, I was thinking the other day about all the stuff that freaks/icks me out. And since I love you guys, here's a list:

1) Bugs. By "bugs" I mean anything with more than four legs or less than two. We're talking spiders, centipedes, mosquitoes, dragon flies, worms, maggots, roaches and various other critters. Having said this, some of these are worse than others. I mean, if a cricket landed on my foot briefly I wouldn't like it, but I wouldn't exactly want to kill myself either. But, to be touched by, say, a cockroach? I'm dying just thinking aobut it.

2) Flying things. This is kinda part of #1, except that I have issues with anything with wings. Meaning? Lady bugs, butterflies, moths, birds of all ilk, and airplanes are included. And yes, I understand that butterflies are pretty and lady bugs are harmless (some folks even believe they bring good luck) and the occasional bird can be gorgeous. This does not change their "Holy God!" factor when I'm minding my own business and they suddenly start to circle.

3) Clowns. Let's not pretend that there's no evil under all that makeup. If you've read It by Stephen King or seen the movie...You know just what the fuck I'm talking about.

4) Snails. We came home a couple of night ago to find two of the little slime balls on our porch. Can you believe some people eat these things? How desperate for food do you have to be to see one of these slimy, stalk-eyed blobs and go "Fry it up, Frank. I can't wait for a cow to happen by anymore." Blech...

5) Squid and octopi. Again, people eat this crap. And get all excited about the ink! the ink! God, what is wrong with the world? I can see eating these when you had no choice, but now? Isn't there a McDonald's near you?

6) Raw or rare meat. This disgusts me so that, when cooking, I won't touch raw meat/fish/poultry. I mean it. I use knives, forks, whatever, but will NEVER EVER touch this stuff with bare hands. Also? How do reasonably sane people eat meat running through with blood? I'll tell you how. They. Are. Crazy.

7) Wet hair. If it's attached to your head, fine. If it's circling the drain or hanging off a towel...I'm dry heaving.

8) Sweat. For some reason there are folks who find sweaty people erotic or something. Well, let's get this straight: I don't care how good looking you are, if you're sweaty you stink and if you stink I want no part of you until you clean yourself up. Mmmm'kay?

9) Bodily fluids. No one needs details here, do you? Let me say, though, I don't know how parents do it. With the children and the diapers and the spit-up and the snot...God...Dry...Heave...

10) Dirty bathrooms. Oh Jesus, guys. I have seen some horrendous public bathrooms. Like when I went on a geology field trip in college to some state cave site. The bathroom was literally just a hole in the ground. And there was smoke coming up out of it. What? Really state park? This is the level best you can do? Or at some boardwalk in Florida when I was about 10. There were no stalls, and the ENTIRE BATHROOM (toilets included) was covered in graffiti and...other...things. My mom and I waited about two hours to pee that day.

He Loves Them More Than Me

Again with the critters.

HUBS and I took off for Target in Beesley (his yellow car) last night. I was driving and again I was fighting off a spider on my window. It was on the side-view at first and I tried to kill it, but missed. After rolling up my window and taking off, it wedged itself between the window and the little flap that keeps the window sealed.

Luckily, as long as we kept moving it stayed put. I was actually able to remain calm. There was minimal screaming and absolutely no crying. Yay, me! I mean, until I stopped the car in the parking lot at Target. Then I went insane.

citygirl: Ohhhhhhh, my God it's running get out and kill it get out and kiiiillll ittttt!!!!!!!!

HUBS: Ok, ok. Calm down, I need a napkin or something.

citygirl: AHHHHHHHHHCCKCKCKCKCKCK!! Moving running ACCCKCKCKCKCKAACACACACKKKKK!

HUBS: Alright, geez. I'm out...

Then, you guys, the unthinkable happened. HUBS had a very simple set of instructions: get out of the car, kill the spider. Um...he KNOCKED IT OFF THE CAR. With his precious napkin.

I'm like, what did you just do? You know what happened last week, how the hell do you not JUST KILL THE FUCKING SPIDER? HUBS actually watched it skitter off, to terrorize another day. I bet it crawled back onto his car. Why would it not? Nobody bothered to teach it a lesson, right?

Fine, HUBS. I see how you are. Just wait until the next time you're being attacked by wild dogs or something. Do you think you'll get any dog-killing power outta me? No sir. No sir, not at all...

What Have I Become?

The yellow car is the culprit.

Oh my God, you guys. I was going to tell you about last weekend for my next blog post, but what happened last night is much more interesting.

HUBS and I were on our way out to Qdoba for dinner. We had a two-for-one coupon and were very excited about the prospect of a semi-cheap din-din. Since HUBS had just gotten home from work, he requested that I drive his car, which I did.

So, we were almost on the highway when I noticed a spider on my window, right near the top where it was open a little. Now, if you remember, me and spiders in cars do NOT GET ALONG. I'm busy trying to drive so I can't kill them and I hate that. I feel powerless to stop the infestation, and me no likey that.

I started to freak a some, but not too bad. It was small, and not a black widow or anything , so not that immediately terrifying. HUBS tried to help me out. But, instead of grabbing one of the million-and-one napkins on his side of the car and killing it, he tried to flick it out the window. This, my friends, is when ALL TOTAL HELL broke loose. Our nemesis the spider DID NOT get sent outside.

IT FLEW INTO THE CAR. IT. WAS. ON. ME!

I find it really hard to explain what happened next. We were on the highway and I was driving and I saw the enemy land on me, but did not know where. I began to panic. And not a little "Oh crap!" kind of panic, but full-on panic attack type panic. Really. I immediately started to cry. And hard, too, people. Tears are streaming down my face, I'm shaking and screaming and cursing and acting like a total punk.

HUBS' initial reaction was to giggle a bit. I don't blame him, though, because I was acting so crazy that he thought I was overacting for effect. When he saw the tears, he knew what was up - I was a lunatic and needed to be calmed down before I killed us both.

Two things made this worse: There was no shoulder, so I couldn't just pull over. I had to wait for the first exit and find a place to stop. Also? I knew I was acting insane, but couldn't stop it. I would start to calm down, then think about the spider setting up shop in my hair or clothes or large intestine and begin to freak! out! again!

This ordeal only lasted about 5 minutes before I could pull over in a parking lot, but it felt like an eternity. I ripped off my sweatshirt (thank God for tank tops) and eventually HUBS found and killed the spider, which was on the back of my seat. As you can imagine, he had to drive once we finally got back in the car.

I have no fucking clue what happened to me! It's not like HUBS purposely threw a tarantula or a bucket of brown recluses on me. It was an accident! And a small, basically harmless spider! And I lost my mind with the shaking/crying/screaming travelling show.

The last time I acted like this I was in college and depressed and lonely and self-hating. HUBS thinks this might have something to do with "the store closing" soon. But I have never gotten this bent out of shape about anything just because of my monthly.

Holy crap. I hope this ain't a trend.